


Welcome to Special Ops

by purajobot935



Series: Trust Issues [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: First Missions, It's Hard and Nobody Understands, Jazz is a good captain, M/M, Minor Injuries, Sabotage, Special Ops, Spies & Secret Agents, Threesome - M/M/M, Undercover Missions, dangerous missions, introductions, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/pseuds/purajobot935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bumblebee embarks on his first mission as a Special Ops agent and learns about some of the inner workings of this world, the mechs he's working with, and the type of relationship they have. All while trying to prove himself to his new captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Special Ops

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published: March 2008

“It’s all up to you now, li’l Bee.”

The yellow Minibot fought down the urge to gulp. Oh, no pressure, it was just his official first mission as a Special Ops agent. He only needed to sneak into a complex, avoid being caught, set up a bomb, and get out before it blew – nope, no pressure at all, Bumblebee thought.

What was he thinking?! He couldn’t do this! With his coloration and lack of experience he’d be spotted in nanokliks. He looked at the visored black-and-white mech – his captain – and the slightly smaller, slimmer blue-and-white, wanting to tell them he was backing out, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Are you alright, Bumblebee?” Mirage asked.

“It’s okay t’be scared,” Jazz said. “Jus’ as long as y’don’t let the fear destroy everythin’ y’ve worked so hard for.”

Bumblebee nodded. “I’m fine, and you’re right. I can do this.”

“Good. In you go then.” Mirage carefully slid up a panel revealing an opening and a subsequent passage so small that indeed only a Minibot could fit through. “And remember, give us a few cycles to lure any Decepticons out before you move.”

“Got it,” Bumblebee replied, and crawled in. “You two be careful.”

“Nothing but,” Jazz answered and slid the panel closed.

=====

Bumblebee stayed where he was in the dimly lit passage, audio receptors listening for any sounds of attack from outside. It was only when the sound of plasma bursts rattled the entry panel and echoed down the passage, that he started to crawl along on his hands and knees, following a pre-mapped route that he’d memorized from the schematics they’d managed to steal on a previous run.

They’d owed Mirage big time for pulling that off, and Jazz had taken them out for some of the best energon Bumblebee’d had since joining the Autobot army.

He kept his mind on his rather charismatic captain as he crawled, so that the enclosed, trapped feeling that nibbled at his processor wouldn’t bother him too much. He still recalled how surprised he’d been when Jazz had asked him to join his Special Ops division.

Of course he’d realized later that Jazz had been watching him, and had done a completely thorough background check on him to the point where he knew just about everything there was to know about the Minibot.

Wheeljack had told him later – when he went in for a maintenance check – that Jazz didn’t pick just anyone to train as an Ops agent. In fact, he’d only picked one other mech for his own team some vorns ago, and that had been Mirage. Special Ops teams rarely got any bigger than three or four bots anyway, so to be chosen to be a part of one… well, Bumblebee didn’t want to blow it.

Besides, if Jazz said he could do it, then he could do it. He’d put you through the smelter and back when it came to training, but there was nothing he’d ask Bumblebee to do that was beyond the Minibot’s capabilities, once he’d gotten past his fears that was. Jazz was a fair captain, looked out for his team and treated them well, so Bumblebee wanted to show him that he was right to have picked the yellow bot.

Of course this wasn’t to say that he wanted to compete with or try to upstage Mirage – far from it. He actually liked the quiet mech and got along really well with him, and according to Wheeljack, this was another accomplishment considering that the former aristocrat rarely opened up to anyone.

In the time he’d spent with the two of them, he’d quickly learned that you had to be able to trust your teammates with your life, and if you couldn’t get along, you were as good as dead. Special Ops agents, Jazz told him, were not above putting down someone they felt they couldn’t trust. He’d had to watch his own trainer put down a mech whom he suspected of leaking their secrets out in exchange for high-grade energon. 

‘Put down’, Mirage explained, was the Ops way of saying that they had to kill someone, or had killed someone. Bumblebee himself had put down a few Decepticons since then, but he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to kill another Autobot just on the basis of not being able to trust him.

He’d ask them later, right now he had a job to do and he’d reached his destination. Carefully and quietly he slid the metal grate aside after first checking to see that the room was empty. In a moment, he crawled out and stood up, sensors on high alert. He could still hear the dull throb of weapons fire outside and hoped the others were doing alright.

Quickly he shook his head to dismiss the thought. It would do no good worrying about what was happening elsewhere, he had to focus on the task before him. It was one of the first lessons Jazz had taught him: do your own job, not someone else’s. Bumblebee took that advice to spark and quickly went over to the device he recognized from the schematics as being the main power generator for the entire sector.

Quietly he detached the bomb from the harness strapped to his back and mounted it to a small niche between two large turbines. His small, deft fingers quickly connected wires and in moments the bomb was armed and counting down – and not a moment too soon. From one of the dark exits he heard a low, familiar and dreaded growl. Ravage was close by.

Bumblebee sprinted back to the passage opening and crawled inside, putting the grate back in place before quickly crawling away. He hadn’t reckoned with Ravage’s sense of smell however. As he crawled back the way he’d come, the primitive’s menacing hiss echoed in the passage behind him. Bumblebee put on a burst of speed. Ravage must have scented his energy signature and somehow removed the grate and come in after him.

The Minibot chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw the two small pin-pricks of red light some distance behind him. He moved faster. There was no way he was going down on his first solo mission, how embarrassing would that be, especially after all the training he’d gone through.

Up ahead, the faint line of light indicated the exit panel and he put on a burst of speed – he was almost free! Reaching the panel, he was about to work his fingers on the bottom edge to lift it up, when a sharp pain shot up his left leg. Turning his head he saw that Ravage had caught up and had locked his jaws around his ankle. With little room to move, the primitive was trying to drag him back down the passage.

Bumblebee kicked out with his free leg in an attempt to dislodge him while his hands worked frantically on the exit panel. At last he found a grip and pulled up as hard as he could. It slid up and Bumblebee threw himself forward. His upper body cleared the opening and finally having the room to maneuver, he turned, drew back his right leg and kicked Ravage square in the face.

The primitive released him, but not before taking a few layers of his ankle-plating with him. Ignoring the pain, Bumblebee kicked out with both feet and knocked Ravage back into the passage. Scrambling up, he quickly slid the panel down, hoping that without hands Ravage wouldn’t be able to lift it. Then he transformed and sped off, noting that the area seemed strangely deserted. He could only hope Jazz and Mirage had gotten away, too, as the bomb would go off any klik now.

Sure enough, as he cleared the sector, a loud explosion lit up the sky behind him, the shockwaves thrusting him forward a little further. As he fought to get his speed under control, two familiar cruisers shot past him, riding on the crest of the shockwave. A grappling hook shot out from the back hatch of the black-and-white one and lodged under Bumblebee’s bumper, then began to reel him towards them until he was finally level.

“Was it just me, or did Wheeljack put more bang into that than usual?” Mirage asked.

“I’d like t’say it was you, but maybe we should ask Wheeljack about it when we check in to Iacon,” Jazz replied. “Good job, li’l Bee. That should keep the ‘Cons occupied for a while till Ratchet gets our bots back on their feet.”

“Thanks,” Bumblebee said. “Are you two alright? Had me a bit worried back there when I couldn’t find any of you before the place blew.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Ran into a few ‘Cons we had t’get rid of.”

“But we’re fine,” Mirage assured him. “How about you?”

“Ran into Ravage in the passage, but I’m alright. Managed to fight him off,” Bumblebee replied.

Jazz chuckled. “Not bad for ya first solo mission. Couldn’t have done better m’self.”

Mirage snorted. “Don’t give the mech false hopes. You did do better, and you know it.”

“What was yours?” Bumblebee asked.

“Not too different from yours actually. Had t’sneak in an’ blow up a place,” Jazz replied.

Mirage playfully swerved into him. “Let me just mention that it was a wing of Shockwave’s tower.”

Bumblebee nearly halted. “Your FIRST mission solo?”

“Now you know how he got to be captain so young.”

“I’m about as young as a sparkling, ‘Raj,” Jazz said. “But yeah, first solo. What he ain’t tellin’ ya is that I spent about three orns in a cryo-chamber after that.”

“What happened?”

“Ran into ol’ Shockers, what else. Only escaped bein’ deactivated ‘cause the bomb went off a li’l too early.”

“What matters is that you lived,” Mirage said.

“He’s right,” Bumblebee agreed. Then, after a pause he asked, “Are we driving all the way to Iacon?”

“Nope. Gonna crash at the halfway-house for the rest of the orn, then go on again once we’re rested,” Jazz said.

“Oh, that’s good. Don’t think I could go as far as Iacon right now.”

“Sure you’re alright, li’l Bee?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” After what Bumblebee had heard, he didn’t think he wanted to mention a small foot injury that would probably heal by itself anyway. Besides, it wasn’t serious and he didn’t want them to think that he was making a fuss. “Just a little tired after all that excitement.”

=====

The halfway-house, as Jazz called it, was a small, discreet single-storey dwelling situated in a neutral town that was located between Iacon and the Decepticon territories. The three Autobots pulled into their temporary abode towards the end of the first half of the orn, and transformed.

As Bumblebee reverted back to robot mode he stumbled, favoring his left leg. Mirage steadied him.

“You’re injured,” the spy said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Jazz crouched and looked at the Minibot’s foot closely. “Go sit down and make yourself comfortable,” he said firmly. There was no reading the expression on his face.

Bumblebee’s shoulders slumped as he limped his way over to and sat down on a berth. Mirage joined him a moment later and silently passed him a small cube of energon. He downed it in a few quick gulps and tossed the empty container into a receptacle across the room. Mirage smirked and did the same.

“Is Jazz angry with me?” Bumblebee then asked softly.

“You should have told us,” Mirage replied.

“I just didn’t want to make a fuss or make you think I was weak.”

The spy sighed. “This team is built on trust, Bee. It means we trust each other with EVERYTHING – even the smallest of wounds. If you can't trust us with that, then why should we trust you at all? It works both ways. We need your trust if we’re going to work together.”

Bumblebee nodded. “I do trust you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Jazz pulled up a chair and sat down directly opposite the Minibot. “We’ll call it a rookie mistake and leave it at that; but the next time you get hurt, I wanna know about it.”

“You got it, Boss.” Bumblebee smiled a bit.

Jazz gave a bemused smile at the use of the title he’d told them not to use on him, but understood that it was in humor. Instead he picked up Bumblebee’s left leg and placed his foot on his lap to examine the extent of the injury. The Minibot looked surprised.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixin’ your leg. It hurts don’t it? I’m gonna try and make some of the pain go away,” Jazz replied.

“But… you’re a Captain,” he said without thinking. “I… I mean, isn't this a medic’s job?”

“Ain’t always gonna have one around,” Jazz said. “So y’gotta do what ya can.”

“What he means is that in addition to the basic field repair training we all get, Special Ops captains get a little more because of the very nature of the job,” Mirage explained further. “Don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing, and he’s got Ratchet’s approval to carry out minor repair on the field.”

“And part of a Captain’s job is t’look after his team,” Jazz said. “Wouldn’t be much of a captain if I let ya go back t’Iacon with your leg busted up like this.”

Bumblebee watched as Jazz ran his fingertips lightly over the wound, assessing the damage. “But… after you fought Shockwave, didn’t your trainer help you?”

The mech frowned behind his visor. “He was a hard-sparked creation of a glitch who wanted t’break my spirit and turn me into an unfeeling killing machine. Said there was no place in Special Ops for a mech who cared. I decided to prove otherwise.”

“Special Ops can be a lonely world, Bumblebee. Not everyone understands it,” Mirage said. “So it’s good to have partners who know what it’s like, to help you out and take away some of the loneliness.”

“Y’ll find, later, that not everyone on the outside’ll trust you, ‘cause y’ll come t’know secrets that’re best left unshared with ‘em,” Jazz continued. “But to them it’ll look like y’ve got somethin’ t’hide. They’ll question yer loyalty and where your allegiance lies.”

Mirage touched a shoulder. “Just don’t question yourself. You’ve got a spark inside you, remember to use it.”

“And remember you’ve got us,” Jazz added.

Bumblebee nodded again. “I’ll remember.”

Jazz gave Mirage a glance, which Mirage returned with a subtle nod of his head. Smiling just a little bit, Jazz returned to Bumblebee’s foot, uncapping the tip of his left index finger to reveal a small nozzle.

“Normally, a medic would use a dilute oil solution for this, but since we ain’t got any, steam works just as well,” he explained. “I need t’flush out all that debris from your wound before I repair anything. Might hurt a li’l bit, but I promise t’make it as quick as I can.”

“It’s okay,” Bumblebee replied. “Do what y’gotta do.”

Jazz turned on the nozzle and carefully applied the steam to the wound, gradually increasing the heat and pressure. Bumblebee flinched with a pained hiss, his leg instinctively pulling away from Jazz’s hand. At this point, he felt Mirage’s hands gently rub his shoulders and noted that at some point the spy had managed to move behind him.

“Easy,” the spy murmured. “Just relax. It’ll be over soon. Relax.”

Jazz’s hand gently tightened around his calf and drew his leg back. “Just hold still, alright.”

But instead of going back to the steam spray, he began to gently massage the afflicted foot, fingers gently pressing on sensors that eased the tension in his leg servos.

Bumblebee sighed in contentment as he unconsciously pressed his tired shoulders into Mirage’s touches.

“Is this part of Special Ops work, too?” he asked.

“Actually, yes it is,” Mirage replied. “But if you don’t like it, we can stop.”

“N… no. Don’t stop. It’s just… why?”

“Remember how I said that not everyone on the outside will understand you?” Jazz asked. “Sometimes it means turning to your teammates for help with relieving certain needs. Sometimes, you can only trust your teammates to understand.”

“Do you trust us, Bumblebee?” Mirage purred into his audio receptor.

“I… I do. I trust you, both of you,” he replied, optics dimming a little as one of Jazz’s hands reached his knee and began to apply a gentle pressure.

“We’re not gonna hurt ya, or take advantage of ya,” Jazz said softly. “You’re one of us now. This is how we care for each other.”

“I… understand.” Bumblebee lightly touched one of Jazz’s hands, guiding it further up his leg. “We’re a team. So… what can I do?”

“Nothing, this time,” Mirage answered, rubbing out a knot in his back. “This one’s for you. Consider it your official welcome.”

Bumblebee let out a shaky sigh as Mirage’s fingers went over a spot that filled his entire body with pleasure. “That felt good.” He didn’t even notice when Jazz’s hands went back to his ankle. “Could you do that again, Mirage, please?”

“Oh, you mean this?” Mirage ran his hands up his fellow spy’s back, brushing the sensor again.

This time, when Jazz applied the steam to his wound, Bumblebee only twitched, but barely moved a servo otherwise. Looking up to see what had caused the change, he saw Mirage running his mouth lightly down the side of the yellow mech’s neck, leaving soft kisses behind, and Bumblebee reciprocating with a kiss and a nuzzle to the spy’s cheek. 

Satisfied that the Minibot’s attention was elsewhere, Jazz got to work sealing and patching up exposed wiring and circuitry, tuning out the soft moans and sighs the other two were making.

He finished his work with a protective layer of magna-strip not a moment too soon, as Mirage pulled Bumblebee further up onto the berth and then pinned him down to it’s surface. Shaking his head with a little smile, Jazz got up to put away his chair and get himself a cube of energon.

“Jus’ be careful not to re-open that ankle,” he cautioned. “I ain’t fixin’ it up again, and then you can explain t’Ratchet exactly what happened.”

Bumblebee managed to get out a ‘thank you’ before he found his mouth captured by Mirage’s.

Jazz didn’t mind. He understood perfectly what it was like to have someone new in the berth – he’d had that once when he and Mirage first teamed up, and he’d eventually have it with Bumblebee once the Minibot got used to their way of work. Right now though, it was more important for his two subordinates to get closer.

Finishing his energon and disposing of the empty cube, he was about to head over to a vacant recharge berth when both Mirage and Bumblebee called his name. He looked over to see Mirage shift to the edge of the berth, pulling Bumblebee with him to make some room for their captain.

“Gonna be a bit of a squeeze on that,” said captain replied. “Wont be all that comfortable.”

Bumblebee pouted, blue optics wide, and Jazz relented. He went over to the berth and stretched out on his side beside the Minibot, making a mental note to teach Bumblebee how to fully utilize that expression to his advantage in the future.

“Alright, just for a little while,” he said.

Leading Decepticons on a merry chase through a town, all the while dodging laser fire and plasma bursts, however, proved to be tiring even for Jazz. When the saboteur’s gentle caresses of Bumblebee’s torso suddenly slowed, then stilled altogether, both he and Mirage glanced over to see that he’d fallen into a deep recharge, and no amount of gentle nudging would bring him out of it.

“Don’t let that easy-going nature of his fool you,” Mirage told him. “Jazz does a lot of work with little complaint. In fact, the only time you’ll hear him complain is if he feels one of us is being treated unfairly.”

“He always seems so cheerful and confident,” Bumblebee said. “Is it all just an act?”

“No, it’s who he really is, but that’s not all there is to him. He can get angry, and he does get sad, but you’ll have to be an expert at reading him to be able to tell. That’s what makes him such a good Ops agent.”

The Minibot took a good long look at his captain asleep beside him. Jazz still seemed to have an exuberance of youth about him, but Bumblebee guessed that behind that visor of his was a mech who was much older and wiser than he let on.

=====

Once they’d gotten back to Iacon, and for a few orns after that, the team split up for a while, as there was nothing that required the immediate attention of all three of them. Mirage lived up to his name and seemed to all but disappear into Iacon and its surroundings. Bumblebee rarely saw him around unless they passed each other in the hallways of the Decagon.

Jazz, meanwhile, had to return to his duties as Autobot third-in-command, and unofficial morale officer to the troops. At times he even appeared to be oblivious to the war, as he was usually getting together with Blaster to plan a party. It was as if they’d turned a complete one-eighty from the cool and confident mechs they’d been while on the mission.

“Y’end up leading a double-life sometimes, Bee,” Jazz explained to him. “It’s the only way to manage sometimes. Regular mechs don’t need to know about what goes on in the world of Special Ops, and they don’t need t’see that side o’ us. It’s better that way.”

“Because they wont understand, right?”

“Y’got it. Even answerin’ Command, y’just reconfirm that you did what they asked ya t’do. Anythin’ else that happened, they don’t need t’know about it. There’re just some things we’re all better off not having.”

Bumblebee snuggled into Jazz’s arms. “There’s another thing I don’t understand.”

Jazz gave him a gentle squeeze from behind. “An’ what would that be?”

They sat together on a parapet outside Jazz’s room towards the end of one orn, looking out over part of Iacon with the two moons overhead, Bumblebee seated comfortably between the larger mech’s legs.

Jazz had called him in when he’d finally gotten some free time, partly to make it up to him for falling asleep at the halfway-house, and partly to see how the Minibot was doing post-mission. He hadn’t been there when Command debriefed him, but from what Prowl had told him later, they were quite satisfied with his work. Jazz had been proud.

“Back at the house, we spent that time together and I thought… well… Mirage spent the last quarter of the last orn in Sideswipe’s berth.” Bumblebee shrugged a bit. “I thought there was something between the three of us.”

“It’s not love, if that’s what you’re thinkin’, Bee,” Jazz replied. “Not romantic love anyway. We ain’t bonded t’each other that way. There’s affection, sure, and maybe somethin’ more than ‘like’, but it don’t mean y’re tied t’us in the way bondmates would be. Y’can still see other bots if ya want to.”

Bumblebee let this sink into his processor, which was still a little hazy from the fierce kisses he and Jazz had exchanged earlier. While the Ops code of ethics, of sorts, forbid him from telling his fellow Minibots exactly what he did on missions – leading them to think that he was nothing more than back-up – there were a couple who thought the little yellow mech quite interesting. Beachcomber was one such mech who seemed to fancy Bumblebee.

And of course, Jazz knew all of this as well, thanks to a few good sources along the gossip channels.

“Then what do we have, exactly?”

Jazz nuzzled him. “I like t’call it a resonance – a spark resonance where we’re all on the same level of trust with each other – somethin’ that also helps t’ease the burden of what we do, when it gets to be too much for one mech t’carry.”

“Sounds nice, but what if one day you want to bond to someone? How do you hide things then?”

“There’re shields y’can put up, like certain firewalls. They can't know, Bee. They may not be able to understand, and it might put ‘em in danger.” Jazz kissed a cheek. “Don’t look so sad, li’l Bee. Bonding ain’t the be all, end all. Y’can still have a romantic relationship with someone without the need t’bond.”

“Have you had one?” Bumblebee asked.

The saboteur only smiled. “A long time ago. We weren't compatible. Had t’split fer the sake o’ our sanity or we might’ve killed each other.”

“Sounds intense. Who was it?”

“Now Bee, ain’t in m’nature t’kiss an’ tell,” Jazz chuckled. “Its long over anyway. No use re-hashin’ it again.” He shifted and stood with a fluid ease, hopping off the parapet and heading back into his room.

Bumblebee followed. “Don’t mind if I try finding out from other sources do you?”

“By all means. If anyone’ll tell ya.” Jazz’s visor betrayed nothing. “Now, y’wanna recharge here with me, or give Beachcomber some company in his berth?”

The Minibot stared at him, then ducked his head shyly. “How do you know about Beachcomber?”

“I’m your captain, I know everything,” Jazz replied. “Go on then, show ‘im how good an Ops agent can be.”

Bumblebee grinned, sprang up and kissed him quickly on the mouth. “Thanks Jazz. You’re the best!” he said, and scampered off.

Jazz let him go with a fond pat on the head, then retired to his own berth.

 

Continued in "Conflict of Interest".


End file.
